


we were born sick

by notslickchrome



Category: The Killers (Band)
Genre: M/M, Smut, it's the catholic guilt, you hate to see me tagging something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notslickchrome/pseuds/notslickchrome
Summary: this is his bodythis is his lovesuch selfish prayersand I can't get enough///or the one where I know the meaning of Take Me To Church by Hozier, discover Bedroom Hymns by Florence + The Machine, and rewrite the 2014 Brandon Flowers fanfiction hit Take Me To Church
Relationships: brandon flowers/orginal male character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. COMMAND ME TO BE WELL

I can still see him float through the pews each Sunday just before class. Reverend Flowers to the community, but Brandon, he told us to call him Brandon

and I attended church, Sunday school, all of it for him.

My mom had always forced me to attend church but after coming out to her a few summers back, she insisted that I also attended Brandon's Sunday school before service. Brandon's teachings didn't necessarily have an anti-gay narrative but they certainly never encouraged it either. Every week I would sit and listen to him speak about family and marriage and despite my mother's wishes, it only confirmed my attraction to men more. Everything about Rev. Flowers was beautiful, he had a shy demeanor, so each of his teachings came out soft and light as though he was reaching out to us individually and letting us in. His eyes were kind and his smile radiated an unobtainable warmth. In passing, he mentioned he spent his time outdoors hiking or exercising and I could tell. I wondered if everyone else could tell. Even the boys who spoke about how inspiring Brandon's ideas on faith and family were, did they see what I saw?

The people in Brandon's Sunday school would slowly change over time as I would be the only one who stayed in my hometown to attend community college. I argued it was to save money, but some days I wonder if that's true and I stayed for Brandon. It was a sad and desperate existence, but I couldn't imagine it was more painful than leaving him. Which, I had to eventually when I graduated.

He was there at both the graduation ceremony and the graduation party. As I stood behind my peers waiting to receive the paper that essentially meant freedom for me, I scanned the crowd, fighting to see Brandon. I eventually found him just three rows behind my parents, the people who were supposed to love me like in Brandon's teachings but didn't. He was sat hands clasped in front of him, smiling in a blue button-down with a black tie, an outfit I didn't realize I loved so much until I was about to leave it. Though I was graduating with a few others who attended his Sunday school, I pretended that smile was for me, and that was enough for me to contemplate staying for a few more months. Which was stupid and irrational, but if anyone else saw how that man was smiling up at the stage, they'd want to stay too.

I tried to avoid him at my graduation party in fear that I would make any rash decisions had he said anything encouraging-- but it was a small party, so of course I found myself cornered by him at some point. He told me that he was proud of me and asked me my plans for the summer and the rest of my life. I told him I was unsure about both those things and he reassured me that I would find them eventually. He then squeezed my shoulder and with a blinding smile told me that he hoped I found value in his teachings and that I took them with me where ever I went, and I knew he meant God, but I could only ever take him.

I managed to get over myself by the end of the summer, my time had run out and my parents were questioning my inability to move on. Which was fair, I questioned that as well. It was difficult to comprehend that moving would be good for me, that I no longer needed to live for my Sunday school teacher, and that I could get away from my parents, but it was true.

I needed to speak with Brandon before leaving, I knew that much. I wanted to leave an impression on him, something that would make him think of me when I was gone as much as I would surely think of him.

It was 3 A.M., the morning before my last day with him when I realized what I needed to do. I needed to come out to him, after years of pretending, he needed to see at least a portion of authenticity and I felt like I owed it to him. After all, he spent every Sunday opening up to me, the least I could do was return the favor. Painting my nails was always something I yearned to do and after digging through my drawers, I found the black nail polish I bought in high school but could never bring myself to use and spread my left hand out on my desk. Shakily, I spread the dark goo over my thumb. As I moved on, I thought of him and his reaction. A part of me craved a negative reaction, a reaction so awful and horrid that I'd feel like he let me go and I'd be free. I didn't know what a positive reaction would look like. Him supporting me didn't even feel positive, if that was the case, then I would think about that for the rest of my life. Reverend Flowers would live in my heart completely untainted.

I finished painting my left hand and decided to leave my right hand untouched as if that would hide it from my parents -- as if I truly had any intention of hiding it. If I wasn't proving anything to Brandon, I was proving it to myself and my parents. As I waited for them to dry while thinking of him reaching for my hand and tracing my cuticles one-by-one, I drifted off to sleep.

////

Four hours later I found myself in the church parking lot I had stood in every week for years. For the first time ever, it felt different. I felt confidence instead of dread, like some kind of euphoria was brought to me through the fact that I was leaving and that I was finally going to have meaningful contact with Brandon.

My dress shoes made a clicking that echoed throughout the empty church as I made my way to the stairwell to the basement where Brandon held his classes. I wanted to think he could hear me coming. I caught a glimpse of my nails as I grasp the handrail walking down, yes, this was different.

When I stepped in, Reverend Flowers was there, testament in hand and dry erase marker in the other, writing down what would supposedly be the last thing I learn from him. I inhaled sharply and walked passed him directly from behind, something I would have never done before, I spent the majority of my existence around him at least five feet away from him. "Good morning," he greeted.

"Good morning," I greeted in return.

He twisted his back to face me wearing a bit of a sinister grin, "well, someone's happy to have their last day."

////

Though I sat right in front of him, I couldn't pay attention to a single thing he said. All I could think about were the small glances he made to my fingertips deliberately planted on my knee. I tapped nervously, probably drawing more attention to them than I wanted. Then, the hour was up before I knew it.

"Well," he spoke, closing the book he was reading out of, "that's it for today, I know for some of you this will be our last time together, I truly wish you all the best and all the success in the world. Don't be shy to reach out to me." He made his way to the doorway and stood to individually say goodbye to everyone. Everyone in a single file line made their way to him to shake his hand, thank him, hug him, and I made sure to be the last one. I needed more than his usual goodbye, I was praying for more than his usual goodbye.

Breathing was nearly difficult by the time the person in front of me reached him. His voice seemed to be an echo as he spoke his partings with them. As they left, I braced myself for the mediocre handshake I was going to receive. I took a deep breath and slowly lifted my hand, but before I could make that contact, I felt a pressure against my chest. Reverend Flowers had spread his hands against my chest and began pushing me back into the room. I was so shocked, I barely noticed the slam of the door echoing through the church.

I stood there, a bit scared. He shoved his hands in his pocket and walked up to me. We were closer than ever before. "Today's our last day, huh?" He said.

I gulped and nodded.

"I have to say, you're my longest participant, I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," I whispered, fearing that if I spoke any louder I'd choke on my own words.

We stood there in silence before he grabbed my painted hand in a way that I couldn't figure out was playful or an advance. His hands were bigger than mine, slender and boney, seemingly purer in contrast to my hands. "I like it," he grinned, "they look nice." He had to have noticed my heavier breathing. I carefully followed his thumb moving across the polish with my eyes, what was he doing? "Tell you what," he spoke again, dropping my hand and making sure to look me directly in the eye, "come over tonight, I have a parting gift I've been meaning to give you. I -- I planned to give it to you at your graduation party but it slipped my mind."

"O-okay," I stammered, tracing my fingernails with my own hands trying to simulate what I had felt when he touched them. 

"Does seven-thirty work for you?" I nodded and he smiled, "see you then--"

"I have something to tell you," I blurted, too far gone to be saved.

"And what was that?"

"I-I'm," I breathed in and out, "I'm gay." The phrase sounded louder than the door slam earlier.

Brandon nodded, "I figured."

He figured. "M-Mr.Flowers."

He reached forward and gave me the same shoulder squeeze he did at my party. "Please, I've known you for so long, I'm not blind."

"What gave it away?"

He pulled me in close and moved his mouth near my ear, so near I could feel his breath, "you can hide who you are, but you can never hide how you look at me."


	2. THE ONLY HEAVEN I'LL BE SENT TO IS WHEN I'M ALONE WITH YOU

I wanted all of him right there in that basement. I wanted to stick my painted fingers in his mouth and watch the both of us give into our own desire right there in Jesus's heart. Even in my car, even with my hands clasped so tightly around the steering wheel, I wanted him to lick the sins clean from my tainted body.

I watched as he drove out of the parking lot.

I didn't want to wait until 7:30, I didn't want to pretend with my parents anymore, I just knew no matter how disappointed 7:30 with Brandon would be, it could never be as painful as the moments I spent with my parents pretending. I didn't have to pretend around Brandon anymore-- I didn't have to pretend around Brandon anymore.

////

Each hour passed like a kidney stone. I spent most of it avoiding my family and staring at the ceiling in my bed as my mind raced. Thoughts of how he whispered in my ear and touched my nails raced through my heads. I could picture my nails at the base of the knot of his tie if he taught me how to tie it, surely he had to teach me how to untie it.

The 7:15 that glowed on my phone reached out to me like an angel I could never obtain. I had already gotten dressed, just for him, I wore my button-down with just an extra button left undone. If he wasn't going to do anything with me, I wanted him to be tempted to. I sprit on some cologne before heading downstairs, bypassing my parents, and getting into my car. I knew the route to Brandon's house like the back of my hand despite only having been there a couple of times. It was just the knowledge that those roads were the only things separating us that fueled me.

It occurred to me, that yes, I could have been setting myself up for disappointment. Perhaps I was just a horny 21-year-old and the parting gift was going to be something related to God. After all, that's all we really had in common. I didn't want to dwell on that, even if it was all a fantasy, it was my last fantasy, so I deserved to put it over the top.

I pulled into his driveway, put my car into park, and got out. I inhaled, that was the air that Brandon breathed every day, and now it was in my lungs as well. My heart pounded in my chest as I walked up to his front door and slowly pushed in his doorbell. I waited and after a few moments, Brandon was opening his door.

He was dressed in a grey sweater, jeans, and socks. His socks matched his sweater and along with that observation, I noticed that his hair was completely product free, swirling around his ears in soft waves. For once I was the one overdressed.

"Hey! Thanks for coming, come on in," he greeted with a smile. I would've sacrificed so much for that smile.

I took my shoes off just because it seemed like Brandon would be the type of person who would have a shoes-off house. He then guided me into his living room where a gift bag would be sitting on his coffee table. "I don't see a point in waiting around, so go ahead and open up that gift," he said, taking a seat at his couch.

I slowly sad next to him and grabbed the bag. It was lighter than I expected. I pulled out the tissue paper inside it and reached inside. I was shocked to find that a jewelry box was what sat at the bottom of the bag.

I stared at Brandon wide-eyed, who just grinned back. "Open it."

I opened the box carefully and there in the white pillow within the box sat a necklace. "I-I don't know what to say," I managed.

"I was going to get you a cross but I figured-- I don't know, I had a feeling you wouldn't want that so, I got you--"

"The male symbol?"

"The male symbol."

The male symbol. Out of all symbols, out of all pendants, Reverend Flowers got me the male symbol. "I don't know what to say," I breathed, "thank you?"

"Of course, do you want me to put it on?"

Did I want him to put it on???

"Sure," I stammered.

Brandon happily took the box from me and plucked the necklace from it. I could have gotten hard just by the way he reached around me and hooked the necklace on. I looked up and placed a hand over the pendant for a second, in complete disbelief that I was existing in such a way.

"I'm glad you like it," Brandon chuckled.

I turned towards him, "can I hug you?"

"You may."

I wrapped my arms around him and to my pleasant surprise, he wrapped his arms around me as well, tightly, as if at any moment he would pick me up. He felt solid in my arms, complete in his male figure, like the first real thing I've felt in years. When he let go, I just wanted more. "I also got you another bottle of nail polish," he spoke, "in case you didn't notice, being so excited about the necklace."

I laughed nervously, "Um, no I didn't notice that sorry."

"That's alright, it was a last-minute purchase, I had just picked up on the way home after seeing you earlier," he grabbed the bottle out of the back, white nail polish, "I just thought it would look good on you," he opened it, "here, let me--" he grabbed my non-painted hand and I watched as he applied the first stroke to my middle finger. "Look at that! Beautiful."

I paused, "Brandon, when did you know?"

"When did I know..."

"That I was gay."

"Oh, well I never knew," he moved on to my next nail, "but I always sort of suspected. When your mom first spoke to me before putting you in my class, she told me you were troubled. All I knew is that you weren't troubled like my troubled kids were, you were quiet and respectful and intentive, so I knew-- it had to have been something else."

"W-why didn't you say anything, isn't it wrong?"

"Of course it's not wrong, we all deserved to be loved no matter who we love and I never tell parents how I feel about that because I'd rather you'd be in my class than some converter or whoever was lined up next."

He finished up my last nail, my pinkie. "There, they look great-- and if anyone gives you trouble," he gently blew, "just tell me." He just sat there staring at my nails for a second and I let him. "So, have you-- ever been with a man before?"

"Um, no," I answered sadly.

"Oh...I have."

I was so shocked, I thought the nail polish was going to slide off my hands and back into the bottle. "Y-you have?" I sputtered.

"Yes, in high school. We dated for a while actually, we didn't see eye-to-eye so we broke up just after junior year, it hurt, but if we hadn't broken up I don't know if I would have devoted myself to faith."

"S-so y-y-you like men?"

"Sure."

"And you know I-I like y-you. That I'm in l-love with you?"

"Also, sure."

I don't know what was pushing me to be so bold, "S-so If I kissed you right now, w-what would you say to me?"

"Well, why don't you find out?"

I barely knew what I was doing and all I knew is that I wanted it. I grabbed his sweater and pulled him towards me, hoping that our lips would collide, and even if not, it would be fine because we were finally alone and he was in my hands like I always wanted.


	3. THERE IS NO SWEETER INNOCENCE THAN OUR GENTLE SIN

"Tell me this is wrong," I whispered against his lips after we had kissed for a few seconds.

"No, tell me you want this," he whispered back.

"I want this, I want his more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

He kissed my jaw, down to my neck. I let out a shaky breath that I felt like I was holding onto forever. Him kissing me felt oddly natural, as though my nerves had disappeared from my neck into his mouth. This is just what I wanted.

I grabbed the end of his sweater, I wanted all of him, every last bit of him, right away. With a delightful smirk, he let me pull his sweater off. I laughed as he was wearing a t-shirt under it anyway.

"Bold of you to laugh like that, baby boy," he grumbled in a lower register than usual, making my heart race.

"B-baby boy?" A term of endearment I'd never imagine I'd hear let alone hear from Brandon's mouth.

"Yes, baby boy, do you like that?"

"I do..."

He pressed himself into me and pulled our lips together into an open mouth kiss. I whimpered as he slid his hand up my shirt, pressing his fingertips into my back.

"Shame on you, reverend Flowers," I whispered in his ear.

"Hmm, yeah? Shame on me?"

"You're dressed so comfortably, I'll never get to undo your tie."

"Oh, I'm sorry, tell me more about it."

He dove his kisses into my neck again. "Well," I managed after catching the gasp that escaped me, "I've always wanted to--I've always wanted to rip your tie off and unbutton your shirt--"

"Mhmm..."

"Yeah, just strip one of those dress shirts from your body--"

"Tell me more--" he slowly dragged his tongue up my neck and I thought I'd lose my eyesight it was such a filthy expression of affection.

"F-fuck, I'd leave every last kiss of mine on your chest, down to your stomach, down, down, down."

He kissed my jaw, "I like hearing you swear-- down where, baby boy?" He sucked lightly on my neck.

"Down to your cock."

"Oh-- good boy."

I was going to burst if we didn't progress any further. I grabbed the end of his t-shirt and pulled up with far less warning than his sweater. "Bold moves from someone fully clothed," Brandon grinned. He reached forward and started undoing my buttons. "I like your outfit, by the way, where was this any other day?"

"In the closet."

"Well, you're free to express yourself like that anytime around me." He untucked my shirt, pushed it off, then pushed me back so I faced upward and leaned back so he could place his hands on my torso and run them upwards passed my chest and to my cheeks.

He crawled forward and pressed against me as we kissed. "I need more of you," I rasped in-between.

"I'd love to give more," he leaned back and ran his hands down my body again, this time down to my belt. I watched in awe as he undid it as well the button of my pants and zipper. I had gotten hard just thinking of what he was about to do to me. He grabbed the outline of my cock in my underwear, "already so eager and excited, huh?"

I nodded far more desperately than I intended.

"That's good to see," he teased and crawled over me again. As we kissed again, he pressed his hips into mine. I groaned into his mouth as we made contact. "You're so hard, do I make you like this?"

"You do," I blubbered out, reduced to a shell of who I was before he asked me that question, "You're so fucking hot."

He ground into me more, and as though he knew I could have come like that, he stopped and knelt, pulling back. Breathlessly, I watched as he undid his pants and pulled them down and off. I could feel myself blush at the sight of him in just his underwear. A sight that could have probably lasted me years.

"What do you want to do with me, baby boy?"

My heart stammered -- I was his baby boy. "So many things."

"Mmm, what things?"

"I wanna touch you."

"Then touch me."

I ran my eyes from his knees to his eyes, studying his body presented towards me. After years of being told my attraction to men was wrong, you'd think this would especially feel wrong-- but it didn't, in fact, I'd never felt more right.

"Need a guide?" I didn't need a guide, but I wasn't going to turn down Brandon's true last lesson. He reached for the hand he had just painted and had just dried and led it up to his thigh. He rested it just where his thigh met his crotch. "Fuck, that looks good."

It did look good, my white nails in contrast with his black underwear. He was right about it being a good color, if not the aesthetics, the way he reacted to it. "You like it when I swear?" I said in a nervous laugh. "You swearing is a whole other level of sexy."

"Sexy, huh?" He smirked.

"Sexy," I repeated. "You've always been sexy."

He reached for my hand again, "tell me what else you've thought of me." He slowly guided my hand upwards.

"Something that would occupy my mind a lot-- is the thought you finally pushing me up against that church basement's wall--"

He placed my hand over his hard-on. I inhaled sharply before speaking again, "and then finally taking my shirt off, I wanted your lips on every part of my body, I wanted you to taste me."

He let go of my hand and I was on my own, making my decisions on how to make him feel. I reached for his waistband and lowered it just enough to expose himself to me. Slowly, I wrapped my fingers around his cock and just held it, gently rubbing my thumb over his tip.

"Let me taste you," I murmured, leaning forward.

He stopped me by holding my shoulder. "I don't think you're quite ready for that-- you should take off your pants first."

I stood from the couch and while making full eye contact with him, he hooked his thumbs on the waistband of my pants and pulled them down with my underwear, discarding both of them with my shirt. An outfit I picked out so carefully for him, I so easily let him disregard.

He pushed himself in front of me before wrapping his arms around me. I gently ran my fingers through his hair as he rested his head against my stomach for a second. It was that moment of affection that made me realize I wanted this more than anything.

My hand still in his hair, he turned his head and angled it down. My grip tightened slightly as he took me in his mouth. He moved in a way that left me wanting more, which I assumed was on purpose, I didn't want our end to be in his mouth.

He looked up at me just as he took me out of his mouth and slowly ran his tongue up my shaft. "Oh fuck," I whispered, "You're so beautiful."

He managed to smile with his tongue still out. His smile lingered in his eyes as he wrapped his mouth around me once again and he held that eye contact as he sucked in his cheeks and moved again. I felt nearly selfish for enjoying such an act, but he made it seem like he enjoyed it so much that I never wanted to stop him.

I watched hazily as he ran his hand down his torso and reached into his underwear. He moaned around my cock as he touched himself. I had to tilt my head up and look away otherwise my end was going to sneak up on the both of us.

This continued as long as he wanted it to. He could have worked me to my end, but as I said, I think he knew that's not where I wanted it to end. When he felt I was satisfied, he stood and kissed me, which seemed so filthy in the best way. "We should continue this somewhere more...intimate," he murmured into my ear. He ran his hand down my back to the back of my legs. Taking me by complete surprise, he picked me up.

"You're so strong," I giggled as he managed to carry me up the stairs of his home without much effort at all.

He grinned at me before pushing in the door of one of the upstairs rooms. By the size of the space and bed, I assumed this was the master bedroom, his bedroom, the room spent his sleeping in, the room he spent his mornings and nights in.

He laid me on the bed and reached for his underwear.

"You matched your socks and your sweater," I spoke as he took those off as well.

He smirked at me, "very observant."

"Did you do that for me?"

"Maybe." He stepped aside to open his bedside drawer and pulled out what I recognized to be a small bottle of lube. I wanted what he was going to give so badly, I wanted our bodies to become one, I wanted all of him, so much so it was nearly embarrassing. He set the bottle beside me and just stood there watching me.

"Brandon," I whined.

He chuckled, "what? I can't appreciate how beautiful you are?

"You can...while touching me." I didn't know how he could just sit there and watch my cock twitch for him.

He stepped forward and placed himself in-between my legs, "oh is that what you want me to do?" He popped open the lube and slowly drizzled a line down my cock. I gasped at the coldness and then at him slowly bringing two fingers down my shaft before wrapping his full hand around me.

"Fuck," I simply whimpered.

"Is that good? Is this what you want?"

I could only nod, I was simply too focused on not finishing right there in his hand.

"Do you want something more?"

He spoke in such a low, gentle tone, of course, yes, I wanted more. I wanted to beg him for more, I wanted whatever he had to offer. "Y-yes, I want more."

He stepped back a little, wrapping his other hand around me and sliding the still lubed hand up my ass. The hands and fingers I admired clasped around religious readings or ordinary dry-erase markers were now either wrapped around my cock or teasing my hole. "Tell me if you want me to stop," Brandon whispered, kissing my neck. Somehow, these filthy actions became so pure coming from this man. He stroked me slowly as his middle finger entered me.

"That feels-- that feels so good," I gasped out, flustered as all hell.

"Yeah? Good." He moved his finger and sped up his hand.

"Ah, fuck-- it's good, but don't make me come like this," I hissed.

"Sorry, sorry, you just look so good like this, I couldn't help it." He slowed down and leaned back down to kiss my neck again.

"How do you want me to make you come?" He asked, running his thumb in a circle over my tip.

I was running out of ways to keep myself from craving the truth, "I-I want you to," I swallowed, somehow it was still hard to say even with his fingers inside me, "I want you to fuck me."

"Ohh, is that what we're here to do," he teased, moving his finger again.

"Y-yes."

"Mmm, how do you want me to do that?"

"What do you mean? Seems pretty self-explanatory to me."

"I don't know about that baby boy, seems I'm fucking you right now." He kissed from my neck to my collarbone. "Tell me exactly what you want, and I'll be happy to give it to you."

"I want your cock," was the first thing I was able to say.

"Yeah?" He kissed my chest more as he slipped another finger in me, moving his other hand quicker upon me.

"Mmf-- and I-I want you to put your cock in me."

"Oh, you're filthy, absolutely dirty."

"I want all of you."

He lifted his head to press his forehead against mine. He bit his lip slightly as he slid his fingers out of me and grabbed the lube once again. I shifted my eyes past him to watch as he poured some into his hand and rubbed it onto his own cock. "Do you want this?" He asked.

I locked eyes with him, "I want this. I've wanted this, I've dreamed of this, fuck, I want this."

He kissed me deeply, "good boy-- now -- get on your hands and knees for me."

Finally, I had felt something other than shame when he asked me to get on my knees. Without a single ounce of hesitation, I was on my hands and knees on his bed. He slipped behind me and wrapped an arm around my torso, "this is probably going to be the easiest position for you."

"I can't see your face, Brandon," I whined.

"Here, turn back."

I turned my head and he was right there leaning over me. He kissed me quickly, "do you want me to put it in?"

"Yes, please, fuck me, Brandon."

He chuckled, "eager, I love it." I felt a pressure and then -- he was in me. Just his tip and all I could do was whimper out. "Are you okay?" He immediately checked. "Tell me if I'm hurting you."

I turned back and his face was where it was before, "y-yeah, it's just -- you're so big."

"Okay, let me know if you need to stop-- I just want you to feel good."

I gripped onto the blanket below me, adjusting myself to find something more comfortable. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my back as I did. Quite frankly, I could have been in burning pain and I would have let him fuck the hell out of me.

I breathed out once I finally got used to it, "more," I sighed.

"Okay," he spoke and kissed me on the back more as he slowly entered more of himself into me.

"Oh fuck!" I shouted out, the pleasure finally being there.

"Are you okay?" He checked again.

"Yes, more than, it feels -- s-so good."

"Can I move then?"

"Yes, I want you to move."

He started thrusting and I gripped onto the blankets more. He had kept himself wrapped around me, so he was close enough to my ear that I could hear his small whimpers and moans.

"Is it good?" I breathed. "Do I make you feel good?"

"Yes, baby boy, you make me feel so fucking good."

The way he said fuck drove me up the walls. "Harder," I gasped out, I wanted more of him, "fuck me harder."

He sat up and thrust into me harder. My grip on the blankets tightened and the moans that escaped me grew out of my control. I suddenly felt his hand slide up my back and then into my hair. His own moans grew louder as he held onto me like that.

"Fuck, you look so good," he huffed, sending absolute shivers down my spine.

I whimpered before reaching down to touch myself. I thought that if I came under him, his fingers knotted my hair, I'd probably pass onto the underworld right there-- and I was ready for it.

"I-I'm gonna come," I croaked.

"No, not yet," he demanded, grabbed my hand, and stopping his thrusts. "I want to see you come. Lay down on your back." He pulled out and I mustered the strength to lay down.

He crawled over me, looked down, and made eye contact with me. "How are you doing?" He asked so genuinely, I couldn't even be mad at him for not making me come.

"So good," I grinned. "Please make me come."

"Not yet, baby boy," he breathed, diving his lips down to my neck once again as if they belonged there-- which they did. "I still want to have more fun with you." He kissed to my jaw then to my mouth. We simply kissed until Brandon reached for the lube again and applied more to himself and then to me. "Are you ready for me to make you come?"

"Yes," I whispered, feeling as though my body was begging for him.

"What was that?"

"Yes! I want you to make me come," I groaned.

"That's right-- I'm going to make you come." He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. That was a side of him I always wanted to see, so I happily let him restrain both my wrists by holding them in one hand. He filled me once again and we both let out our own moans of ecstasy together.

He ran his hand up and down my body."There we go, much better, I like it when I can see all of you."

"Please start moving," I whimpered, re-hardening just at the way his hand rested across my stomach. Which, he noticed and moved that hand and ran a finger through my slit. In response, I sighed, bucking my hips so that maybe he'd get the idea.

"You're cute," he smirked.

I groaned, "show me how cute I am."

He leaned forward and connected our lips. As badly as I wanted him to destroy me, that could have been enough. I let out a high-pitched moan against his lips as he moved his hips ever so slowly.

"Faster," I managed to gasp in-between a kiss.

"So brave in your demands of me," he tsked. "You need to know who's in charge." He sat up and pressed my hands further into the bed. He finally wrapped his other hand around my cock, moving it slow with his thrusts.

"Please, I want to scream for you, Brandon," I begged.

"Seems you're almost there," he chuckled.

"I want you to fuck the hell out of me," I sputtered out messily, bucking into his hand desperately.

He stopped stroking me altogether again, "patience."

I didn't want to be patient, I wanted him to make me come so hard that I wouldn't be able to move after, "r-reverend Flowers," I tried, and I saw that his ears perked up. I smirked at him, "reverend Flowers, fuck the hell out of me."

"Oh baby boy, be careful with your words," he placed a kiss on my chest and thrust just slightly faster. "You might just get what you wish for."

"Please, I want you to ruin me."

He tightened his grip around my wrists, "you want me to ruin you, huh?"

"I don't want to be able to get out of this bed."

His lips stretched into a sinister smile and its usual warmth became a heat I wanted nothing more than to burn in. He dug my hands into the bed and I watched in near hopelessness, the lines marking his hips to where we connected, pick up the pace. The pleasure was so intense, I wanted to close my eyes and melt into it, but I also did not want to break the eye contact we made.

"So you're quiet now?" He panted out, slamming his hips into me now.

I thought I had let go in the moments before, but the moans turned screams proved to me that clearly I was still holding on. Such cries of pleasure only seemed to fuel him, moving into me in perfect rhythm. "Brandon," I spat out, I just wanted to say his name, as if that'd somehow tell him what he was doing to me.

He ran his hand up my body again, breathing heavier, sweat forming at his hairline. He could have been devoured had he just let go of one of my hands. "You're gonna make me come," I whimpered. I wasn't sure how it was possible, but just in the way that he ran his hand up and down my body, mixed with his perfectly aimed thrusts, the pleasure was already building to its breaking point.

"Already, baby boy?" He panted, grinning, "I haven't even touched you yet."

I scanned him fully one last time. I couldn't believe I let him hide his body from me behind those dress shirts for as long as he did. He was built as though he was carefully sculpted from marble, like the god we prayed to every Sunday together rewarded him for it, and my reward? I could see my reward in how he let us connect and I could feel it in what was building without the obvious blueprint touch of Brandon's hands at all.

I locked eyes with Brandon as though I wanted to taint them for myself for the rest of my life. I wanted them to be the last thing I saw, before this fucking orgasm, before I died, I just wanted them to be the last thing I saw. He looked back at me as though he was hesitant to let me continue, but it seemed that he too wanted to see if he was so good that he'd push me over the edge without a single touch of his hand. He lifted his hand off my stomach and slammed it onto the headboard behind me, which somehow allowed his thrusts to become more divine. All I could do was screw my eyes shut and follow the building pressure before spilling over my stomach. By God, if that was to send me to hell, then why I did see blinding white?

As I followed the dip down, he let go of my hands and leaned down, kissing me everywhere, making me feel safe in my own high point. "Good job baby boy," he complimented as if I had given my orgasm rather than received. I wrapped my arms around him and just held him nearly completely fatigued.

"I wanna make you come," I managed to breathe out.

"You do?" He sounded surprised.

"You've made me feel so good, I need to repay you."

"You don't need to repay me--"

"No, I just want you to feel the way-- that I just did."

"Okay, how do you wanna make me come?"

"Inside me." It felt sick to say, but I did want a piece of him.

He pressed his forehead against mine and just his warm breath could have led me to start this all over again. "I'm gonna start moving again, okay?" He mumbled. I nodded and he slowly resumed his perfect thrusts. With shakier breaths, he sat up and grabbed my hips, not slamming into me as he did to make me come, but just enough to make me want it all again had my body let me. "Oh fuck," he gasped out, "you're gonna make me come, baby."

I pressed a hand against his chest and wildly, I could feel his heartbeat, "then come for me."

With a low grunt and faster pants, he released before collapsing onto me. I kissed the side of his head as I feel his heavy breathing against my own chest. I ran my fingers through his hair as we both just laid there for a moment, "was that good?"

He nodded against my chest, eyes still closed. Once he opened them, he peered up at me, smiling gently as he always did. He sat up as he pulled out and I was tempted to tell him I wanted it all again. Still breathing a bit heavily, he stuck his tongue out in his grin and stuck an arm out to balance himself over me. Neither of us said a word as his hand wandered down to my bottom. He slid his pointer and middle finger up to my hole and through what he left there. Still, not a single word as he brought those fingers through what I had left on myself.

I finally spoke, "what are you doing?"

He didn't answer, instead, he lifted the two fingers to his mouth and sucked off what he had gotten on them. Before I could tell him how full of filth he was, he leaned forward and kissed me. In that moment, he had undone any teachings he passed down on me. Maybe I didn't need heaven anyway, maybe in the milky white we were covered in, in our mouths, on my nails, in the lights I saw, and in the cloud-like softness of the bed under us, I had found it.


End file.
